Conspiracy of Ravens Read online

  “You’ll come back,” Coyote Dan said, wearing his coyote grin. “You always do.”

  Walking toward the Captain was as hard as turning his boots toward the sand wyrms of Lareda, but Rhett did it. That’s what a man did—what he had to do. It wasn’t always as simple and straightforward as facing down werewolves or sirens. Walking toward a man you respected who was about to tell you he was disappointed in you was bad enough.

  At the moment, Rhett would’ve preferred the werewolves.

  Chapter

  6

  Rhett stood in the doorway, giving his eye time to adjust. The storage shed was an old log cabin, the windows boarded up and the logs sloppily chinked. The door wore a mighty heavy padlock on the outside, the general idea being that whatever was inside needed to stay inside. When the Rangers had taken a brief week to train him up, he’d learned that this was where they kept magical and monstery things best left in the dark.

  “Over here, son.”

  Squinting, Rhett could make out the Captain in a dusty corner obscured by shelves of books and old junk, most of which seemed like a waste of space to someone who couldn’t read or cipher. The cockatrices and salamanders clucked and hissed as he walked past their cages, glad he’d never drawn the short straw that meant a Ranger had to feed and clean up after the nasty beasts. Rhett well remembered the acid burns on Chicken’s hands from the clumsy feller’s week of duty in here. That wasn’t a problem Chicken would have again, as he was dead, killed by the siren of Reveille. Rhett’s heart pinched up, hard and lonely as a nut rattling in a bucket. He’d had so little time with the Rangers and yet seen so much lost.

  As for the Captain, he was digging around in a trunk, his back bent to show the bare pate on his hatless head. Rhett waited, patient-like, for as long as he could, which wasn’t long.

  “I’m here, Captain,” Rhett said, just so there’d be a noise that wasn’t creepy.

  “I know. When I find what I’m looking for, I’ll elucidate. Sam showed you your things, I reckon. We brought everything we could find from the mountain. You need any supplies that you didn’t already have, now’s the time to ask.”

  Rhett swallowed, his mind reeling and taking stock. “I got bullets and guns. Reckon we could use some road food, if Conchita can spare it. Earl could use a hat so his buttermilk face doesn’t burn. Maybe a gun, too, if he can prove he won’t shoot his fool foot off.” He removed his hat and fidgeted with it, building up the nerve to ask for something he had no right to. “And that stray mule, the feller with one eye. Maybe he could be our pack animal?”

  The Captain chuckled and shook his head. “You’re just hell-bent on gathering a strange flock, is all I can figure. Only crew uglier than yours I’ve seen is the one I started out with before I got my commission. You’ll take whatever and whoever you can get, at first.”

  “I’ll take whoever’s willing to have my back in a fight,” Rhett corrected gently. “And they all have, every one of ’em.”

  “You’re stealing Hennessy, too, ain’t you?”

  “That’s his business, Captain.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. I suspected as much.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain, if—”

  The Captain stood and turned, slow and creaking in his bones. His hand on Rhett’s shoulder stopped the words like a cork in a bottle. “Don’t be sorry. You’re doing what you got to do, and I respect that. I’d send the full outpost to help you out if I could, but I can’t, so I’m going to do my best to stack the deck in your favor. Ranger rules allow that younger fellers get sent on quests, from time to time, so you’re still on the books and the payroll, and don’t take shit off anybody while you’re wearing this badge, you hear me?”

  Rhett straightened up and said, “Yes, sir, Captain.”

  “Now, from what Earl tells me, he doesn’t know what sort of monster this railroad man is, just that he’s got big magic and is mighty secretive. So I’m giving you a copy of this grimoire and all the silver you boys’ll need to kill a damn bull elephant.”

  Leaning over, the Captain picked up a beat-up old black bag similar to the one the horse doc in Burlesville carried around for his doctoring. He opened it up, letting a puff of dust into the still air. Inside, he put a thick leather book, several silver knives, and a pile of glittering silver bullets.

  “There’s a surgeon’s kit in here, too. Laudanum for pain, needles and sutures and whatever the Sam Hill else doctors keep in their little glass bottles.”

  “But—”

  “I know. You and Dan and Winifred and Earl don’t need such fripperies. But Sam might. And there could be some humans along the way that need your help, too. Life gets messy around monsters; you know that. I got a feeling whatever you’re setting out to do is going to get more messy than usual. Might as well prepare. It’s not much for a mule to carry, anyway, even if he’s old and skinny.”

  Rhett let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “His name is Blue,” he said softly.

  “Well, he’s almost as ornery as you are, so I reckon you’ll be glad of each other’s company.”

  His voice had gone all rough, and the Captain was sort of staring into space over Rhett’s shoulder, one hand on the open bag.

  “Captain?”

  “I feel a tremor in the air, Rhett. Durango…it’s changing. Railroads pressing in, wagons tumbling past, full of women and children, and the monsters only seem to be getting bigger and meaner. My time is almost up.”

  “Don’t say, that, Captain! You got twenty good years in you, at least.”

  That snapped the Captain back. He barked a laugh. “Well, I’m not ready to die yet, I know that much. Might as well go give some sand wyrms the what-for. Ugly bastards, they are. But a long sight better than a monster with a cunning tongue and a bank account.” He stepped back and put a hand on Rhett’s shoulder. “Winifred told me what you did in that cave. Not all the Rangers. Just me. You did good, son. Best reward I could give you would be a long, quiet life with no more pain, but I reckon you’d look askance at that anyway, considering this destiny of yours and all.”

  “I never asked for the burden,” Rhett said gruffly.

  “Nobody does. That’s why it’s called a burden. Didn’t ask for mine, neither. At least I can take that fool woman Regina off your hands, drop her among the townfolk of Lareda, if she lasts that long. Now look here. Hold out your hand. I’m going to teach you the Ranger passcode. Any Captain takes your measure and doubts you, you hold out your hand, look him in the eye, and do this.”

  What followed felt mighty uncomfortable to Rhett, who wasn’t fond of being touched. The intricacies of the handshake were many, and it took several tries before the Captain was satisfied that Rhett could pull it off.

  “That’ll do, son. Now, one last thing.”

  Stepping close, the Captain reached for Rhett’s Ranger badge. Rhett figured he was going to reposition it, or maybe shine it up a bit, as the Rangers tended to do after a fight. When the Captain undid the pin and removed it, Rhett had his first glimpse of what might make him kill an innocent man, even one he respected as much as the old feller standing slightly too close. But the Captain was soon pinning a new badge to Rhett’s collar.

  “You’re officially a Scout for the Durango Rangers. Jiddy won’t like it much, if you come back alive, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now you make sure you’re wearing it shiny and proud when you meet Captain Haskell, you hear? I’d choose to send you into the domain of just about any of my compatriots over him. We never have seen eye to eye. So you remember this: At the end of the day, Captain Haskell ain’t your boss. He can’t compel you, enlist you, or impede you. So if you don’t like what he has to say, you know what you need to do.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rhett nodded and stood up straighter. “Kill what needs to die, with or without his help.”

  “I’d take one of you over ten of him, so you’d best come back alive.”

  A knot formed in Rhett’s throat, and he coul
d only nod tightly.

  “And here’s your papers. I know you’re not one for lies, but traveling east means folks might have some questions regarding your particular freedoms. Don’t let anyone assume the worst.”

  The papers he tossed in the bag looked old and worn and could not possibly have been legitimate. Rhett burned with fury and relief. So folks might think he was a runaway slave or an army deserter, maybe? And these made-up goddamn papers would convince them otherwise? The only way to fight lies was with more lies, then, in regard to Rhett’s history. Just as well. Better to defeat an uppity feller with paper than with a knife in the guts and a rope necklace for Rhett’s trouble.

  The Captain gave a decisive nod and hobbled out the door. Rhett moved farther into the darkness among the cockatrice cages and allowed himself five minutes of tears. Parting from the Captain was like losing Monty all over again. Except that if he did a good enough job, he could come back, and the Captain might still be around. His job now was simply to stay alive long enough to tell the Captain he’d succeeded.

  He was determined to make the Captain proud.

  They left at dawn, two companies headed in opposite directions. The Captain led a sturdy crew of hard men armed to the teeth, their horses stomping and breathing clouds against the darkness that still settled around the shoulders of the mountains like a widow’s shawl. Regina sat on the wagon seat beside Conchita, both women wearing grim frowns. Rhett raised a hand in good-bye, but she only looked away from him, the fool creature.

  Rhett’s far smaller posse of compatriots was, by comparison, ridiculous. A crippled woman, a coyote man, a donkey, an uglier-than-usual mule, a herd of decent enough horses, and sweet, optimistic Sam prancing in the middle of ’em like a prize bull. Although Rhett had promised Earl would be fast friends with Puddin’, the Irishman had claimed a distaste for sitting astride horseflesh and had chosen instead to trot along in his donkey form. Something about being a hoofed critter apparently made it right peculiar to ride another hoofed critter, which at least saved Rhett the time and trouble of fetching a second mount for himself. As always, a small contingent of injured, old, and raw Rangers stayed behind to guard the homestead and meet any new challenges.

  With a tip of his hat to the Captain, Rhett turned Ragdoll toward the shifting dawn and urged the mare into a walk. Clever thing that she was, she showed some reluctance in leaving the larger, safer herd and heading out in an unfamiliar direction, but Rhett knew his business on horseback and wouldn’t take a goddamn mare’s mind into consideration. Ponying Puddin’ and a heavily laden Blue, he led his crew toward the rising sun.

  Behind him came Winifred on the same draft cross the Captain had once lent Regina, a handsome but gentle bay-colored beast named Hercules who had a broad back and steady pace. Sam rode his high-stepping palomino and ponied his blue roan. Dan sat easy on his forgettable chestnut, ponying the forgettable chestnut gelding Rhett had broken just yesterday. And Earl trotted among them, his bag slung over his dirt-brown donkey back and containing all his old clothes, freshly laundered, not to mention a pistol and fresh socks. He seemed especially jaunty, which Rhett had to assume meant he was eager to be headed back toward his brother and friends at the railroad camp.

  Rhett wasn’t feeling nearly that cheerful. Before he left, Conchita had approached him, her thin lips set in a dour frown. She’d handed him a heavy bag of food supplies and oven-hot tamales and corn dodgers and sketched a cross over him with her thumb. “Vaya con Dios,” she’d muttered, and Rhett didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded an awful lot like what you’d say to a man marked for dead.

  The farther they got from the Las Moras Outpost, the better Rhett felt, which only made him more heartsick. His destiny wanted him to go east, but he wanted to go south and west. How far would the Shadow need to travel to fulfill its duties? Would he be charging down vampires in New Amsterdam or hunting swamp monsters in Shackamaxon? Would the future see him riding in the lower decks of a steamship to Europa? His stomach roiled at the thought. He felt as much a part of Durango as the dust here, so similar to the color of his own skin. The sparseness of the prairie and the hardness of the desert called to his heart, same to same. Wherever he went, he needed far-off mountains and vastness and a particular wildness, or else he’d start looking for death like a dumb sheep, ready to turn anything into a noose.

  It wasn’t long at all until the sun shimmered high overhead, marking noon, and they stopped to eat a quick meal of cold tamales and relieve their various needs. Rhett watched as Dan helped his sister down from her horse, the girl’s jaw set at the indignity of requiring help. She’d worn pants and a boot for the riding, which was sure to make her task even more challenging. Winifred took up her crutch and hobbled behind some boulders, and Rhett exhaled, grateful that she’d not requested his aid. Try as he might, he couldn’t forget the uncomfortable urges he’d felt in the cave with her, naked as a babe, cradled against her chest. He didn’t need to be that close to the vexful coyote-girl ever again, even if Rhett was the obvious choice to lean on for her women’s troubles.

  Men had it so easy, pissing wherever they wished. Most of the time, Rhett had come to feel right comfortable as a man among men, but nothing reminded him of the frailty of his body like the horrors that occurred below his damn belt. Any day now, he’d be bleeding again, and the thought made him grind his teeth and wish for a fairer world. He found a different boulder to piss behind, glad at least that no one was around to witness a clumsiness about his business that few men could claim to understand.

  “We still headed in the right direction?” Rhett asked, finding Earl in conversation with Dan over something or other held between them. He assumed it was Earl’s blood-crusty map, but when he got closer, he saw that it was the book the Captain had packed in the doctor’s bag. Rhett tended to look down on anything beyond his understanding, and the gold-edged book was no different. He spit in the dust and pointed at the tome like it was a fart no one would claim. “Unless there’s a map in there, I fail to see how it might be useful.”

  Dan grinned in that particularly obnoxious way he had. “Said the same person who assured me he didn’t need to learn how to make a bow and arrow.”

  “Didn’t need a bow and arrow to kill that siren or the Cannibal Owl. Reckon a gun will keep working, as long as I can pull the trigger.”

  “But what about when you run out of—”

  Rhett stopped him with a hand. “Shut your damn tamale hole and help me reckon the way to Lamartine. I don’t care to lose a day to reckless meandering.”

  Dan chuckled, another noxious habit, and pulled a tan piece of paper out of the bag rigged to Blue’s harness, which seemed to hold far more than it had any right to. He unfolded the paper, revealing a creased and stained but serviceable map far superior to Earl’s. “Captain gave us this Ranger map, which should get us there. Here’s the outpost, and here’s Lamartine. First marker on the road’s gonna be Bandera, which we’ll know because—”

  “Because I was there,” Sam said, all raw. He’d just moseyed up, but now he had to turn away and stare at the sun, a trick Rhett used himself when he didn’t want to see the past play out in his mind.

  “Then we’ll head up through Waterloo and to Lamartine. Should find some settlements in between that aren’t on the map, which we can avoid or seek out as needed.” He glanced meaningfully to where Winifred sat on a flat stone, resting, her cut foot stuck out in front of her showing its gruesome circle of live bone. “Now, I know you’re not the sort to ache for a fine bed, but any respite we can give my sister would be a gift, provided it didn’t carry the taint of pity.”

  Rhett nodded once and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Understood.”

  “Let’s not forget, lads, that any days spent reclining in bed means that men in the railroad camp are losing fingers and lives both.” Earl’s voice was clipped and terse, his Irish accent high with emotion.

  “It must be a balance,” Dan said, using his preacher tone. “If we
push too hard, we’ll be too tired and worn to fight. If we’re in good shape, well fed and well rested, we’ve a better chance of success.”

  “Aye, well, and let’s recall that we could be discussing such idleness while moving toward our goal.”

  Sam, who had been watching the argument but remaining safely out of it, smiled widely and clapped both men on the back. “Then let’s saddle up—and, uh, donkey up, boys. We still got plenty of daylight left.”

  Rhett had to turn to his saddlebags to hide the rush of feeling that thrummed through him whenever Sam did something like that. He’d promised Sam they’d just be friends, that they’d have each other’s backs. And that meant that he would do everything in his power to hide the fact that he still had feelings for Samuel Hennessy and probably always would, even if he’d want to punch that sweet smile every now and again, just to take out some small amount of his ongoing frustration and pain.

  Blue rubbed his long nose against Rhett’s shoulder, and he rubbed the old mule’s neck, wishing there was some way to discover what-all the beast had been through since Rhett had left Pap’s land. At least Pap hadn’t beaten the mule, as Blue’s ragged gray coat was unmarked by the lash, a kindness Pap hadn’t extended to his slave girl, Nettie Lonesome. Which reminded Rhett of a question he’d been meaning to ask but…didn’t want to.

  Pulling the packet out of the doctor’s bag, he held the faded brown papers out to Sam. “I reckon I need to know what’s in here, in case somebody asks,” Rhett said roughly.

  Sam nodded and untied the strings, unfolding the paper and guiding a finger down the chickenscratch writing, his brow wrinkled up in a way that made Rhett’s heart crunch.

  “Says mostly the truth, or what the truth should be,” Sam finally said. “Your name is Mr. Rhett Walker, you’re from the town of Reveille in Durango Territory, you’re seventeen, and you’re an official Scout for the Durango Rangers.”