A Lust For Lead (24 page)

Shane stood at one of the boarded-up windows, looking out through a gap in the boards as Buchanan crossed the street towards him.
Madison was on the far side of the room. There was a door behind the counter that led into an alley out back. She had hold of Chastity’s hand and urgently gestured for Shane to follow her. ‘Come on!’ she hissed, but Shane stayed where he was.
They would never escape from Covenant if they kept on running. Sooner or later, Buchanan would get a clear shot or, even worse, they would run into the Cordites. The only way they would ever get out of the town alive was if they started to take control of their circumstances, and that meant they had to deal with Buchanan.
Shane glanced over his shoulder at Madison. ‘Hide!’ he told her.
She ducked behind the counter and dragged Chastity down next to her. Shane edged to the side of the door and waited in the shadows. He did not experience the familiar calmness that usually came over him when he fought. Instead he felt a nervous chill.
He was not accustomed to fighting without a gun.
He listened to Buchanan’s footsteps as he mounted the boardwalk and approached the door. Buchanan was no fool. He could guess that Shane would be waiting for him. He hesitated at the threshold.
‘Are you in there, Shane?’
He struck the doorframe with the palm of his mutilated hand, making a loud, sudden noise. He was trying to psyche Shane out and frighten him into making a move, but Shane kept his cool and waited in the dark, his hand on the hilt of his knife.
Buchanan hit the doorframe again, harder and more aggressively than before. He had never been a patient man and Shane did not think he would wait out there for long. He gave the doorframe another strike, but when that failed to illicit a reaction, he strode inside.
Shane sprang on him the moment he entered the door, chopping his knife down in a strike aimed at the back of Buchanan’s hand. It cut the skin and Buchanan dropped his revolver and swore. Shane reversed the direction of his cut and thrust the point of his knife at Buchanan’s belly, but his adversary had recovered from the surprise of his attack and managed to turn the blow with the back of his arm. He hit Shane with his elbow and knocked him staggering across the room. The knife slipped from Shane’s fingers and slid away across the floor.
Buchanan roared in anger and charged him like a bull. He hit Shane low and scooped his legs off the ground. The wind was punched out of Shane’s lungs as Buchanan drove him backwards against a rack of shelving on the wall. Shelves broke and an assortment of dusty jars and empty bottles rained down onto them. Buchanan dumped Shane roughly on the floor and stamped on his belly.
Shane somehow managed to get to his feet, fending off the blows with his arms. He ducked and weaved and managed to avoid Buchanan’s strikes long enough to get his measure. Buchanan was a fierce and aggressive fighter, but his movements were clumsy. He made up for the disadvantage of his mutilated right hand by striking with his elbows more often than his fists.
Shane timed his moment and ducked under a wild haymaker. He seized hold of a broken shelf and swung it into the side of Buchanan’s head. The man let out a howl and staggered sideways, but he had taken enough beatings in the past that pain had little effect on him. He shook his head to clear it and waded back into the fight. Shane tried to hit him with the shelf again but this time Buchanan was expecting it. He lunged inside of Shane’s reach and hooked one arm around his head. Then, with scarcely any exertion on his part, he slammed Shane’s head against the wall.
Shane managed to break free of his grip and danced backwards across the room. He ducked and weaved past Buchanan’s strikes and retaliated with a fierce punch that struck Buchanan square on the jaw. It stunned him for a moment and Shane pressed his advantage. He snapped two fast hooks into Buchanan’s kidneys and then swept a vicious uppercut into his solar plexus.
Buchanan staggered up against the side of the counter and gave a hacking cough. He recovered quickly and caught Shane by surprise. Countering a punch, he hauled Shane in close and slammed him up against the counter. Buchanan was enraged now, and his face turned blood red. His eyes bulged and spittle flecked his lips. He cursed as he hit Shane with his elbows, driving each blow with numbing force. Shane felt his legs buckle beneath him.
Buchanan got hold of him by the collar of his shirt and threw him against the wall. Shane smacked into it, too weak and too dazed to absorb the impact. He grabbed hold of a shelf and used it to steady himself, but Buchanan was upon him again in an instant. He drove his knee into Shane’s stomach and threw him across the room into the counter again. Shane hit it and slithered to the floor. He rolled over and tried to stand but his strength deserted him. He crumpled onto the floor, breathing heavily, his whole body in pain.
‘Did you think you could beat me, Shane?’ Buchanan asked.
It took a moment for Shane to find his voice. ‘I did the last time,’ he croaked.
‘You had a gun last time, fucker!’
He swung a kick into Shane’s ribs.
‘Look at you! You’re nothing without a gun!’
‘What about you?’ Shane replied with a groan. ‘You’re nothing even with a gun.’ And he laughed, even though it hurt his ribs.
Buchanan bellowed savagely and kicked him. ‘Let’s see you laugh in a minute, after I’ve ripped out your fucking tongue.’
He was so intent on kicking Shane that he did not see Madison creep out from behind the counter, a wooden stool in her hands. She stole up carefully behind him and raised it above her head to strike. He whirled about abruptly.
‘I thought I smelled cunt,’ he snarled, and snatched the chair out of her hands.
He punched her in the face and sent her to the floor, where she sprawled unconscious. Buchanan hurled the stool across the room and it broke against the wall.
Shane tried to get to his feet but only made it as far as his knees before Buchanan kicked him back down. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this.’ Buchanan sneered, drawing a knife from his belt. It was long and the blade had a wickedly serrated edge.
‘I’m gonna carve you up slow, Shane. Starting with your fingers.’

Shane tried to scramble away as Buchanan advanced on him but he was too weak and could not move fast enough. Buchanan slammed his knee onto Shane’s chest and sank his weight on top of it, pinning him down. His face was cut and bleeding from the few blows that Shane had landed, but he did not seem to be badly affected by them. He grinned, blood dribbling from his gums.
He brandished his knife to the light, letting Shane take a good long look at it. Buchanan had never liked to kill his enemies too quickly. He much preferred to draw out their suffering, and with Shane he had a big grudge to settle.
The gunshot was sudden and abrupt. It caught them both by surprise. Buchanan blinked and looked down at his chest, where a red stain had appeared and was rapidly getting bigger. He swore quietly and looked over his shoulder to see who had shot him, but his strength gave out and he collapsed onto the floor.
Shane saw Chastity standing close to the doorway. She held Buchanan’s Smith and Wesson revolver awkwardly in her tiny hands and there was smoke curling from its barrel. Her face was like china. Her eyes were ablaze.
Shane found a hidden reserve of strength somewhere deep inside of himself and rolled to his feet just a split second before she fired at him. The heavy revolver bucked in her grasp and blew a hole in the floorboards where he had lain. It was a much bigger gun than she could handle and the recoil lifted her hands up into the air. She brought them level again and fumbled to draw back the hammer. In that time, Shane lurched for cover. He vaulted clumsily over the shop’s counter just as she fired and felt the bullet rip past the side of his head, narrowly missing him. It struck a bottle on the shelves in front of him and blasted it into shards.
He dropped down behind the counter, breathing heavily, and clutched painfully at his bruised ribs. The sudden movement had hurt him badly.
Beyond the counter, he heard Chastity cock the hammer.
The sound gripped him with a icy chill. The wooden front of the counter was perhaps an inch thick at best and offered no protection from the .44 calibre slugs that Buchanan’s revolver fired. He scrambled forward on his hands and knees, ducking flat to the ground as Chastity fired blindly at him. The first bullet smashed through the counter behind him and embedded itself in the wall beyond. The second was aimed in front of him and showered him in the face with splinters.
He came to an abrupt halt, gasping for breath. On the other side of the counter, he heard her draw back the hammer and knew that the next shot was coming straight at him. He grabbed hold of the counter and vaulted over it just as she fired. The bullet smashed through the wood, passing beneath him as he jumped.
He cleared the counter and landed running, pushing his body to the limit of his endurance. He rushed Chastity head-on and tackled her, propelling her down to the ground. The gun toppled from her hands as she tried to cock it again and she screamed with frustration. She kicked and scratched him and spat and wailed.
Shane smothered her in his grasp and pinned her to the floor, holding her immobile while she raged. She was fierce, but she was also tired and she quickly wore herself out. As she quietened down, Shane eased back and sat down with his back against the wall. He felt exhausted. Wincing at the pain in his ribs, he pulled Chastity into his lap and sat there, nursing her while he got his strength back.

From the upstairs window, Travis could see all the way across Covenant to the far side of town. South and West Street divided it into quarters and the old clock tower reared up at the crossroads, looking like an enormous headstone in the night.
The streets were bathed in a luminous grey smoke that seemed oblivious to the shifting patterns of the wind and seemed to flow instead in whatever direction the strange new gunmen went. Here and there, Travis saw the smoke light up with muzzle flash and heard the rumbling thunder of gunfire, and knew that the strangers had tracked down another isolated group of invigilators.
He saw all of these things, but he could not see the one thing that he was looking for: the man who was trying to kill him.
Parker and Eddings were both dead. They were the two sharpshooters who manned the nests on either side of his position. Parker had abandoned his post shortly after the fighting had broken out. He had gotten scared and decided to make a run for it. Travis had been thinking about shooting him himself when Parker’s head had suddenly split open and the sharp crack of a rifle shot had pierced the night.
Eddings had died next. It had happened quietly. Travis had heard the shot and some time later he had noticed Eddings’ arm hanging off the side of the roof where his body had fallen.
Now Travis knew he was next.
He had expected this. Travis handled a rifle so well that it was often said that he had been born with one in his hands. He was proficient enough that he had just recently begun to hear it whispering at the back of his mind. He knew what was loose in the town, killing the other invigilators, and he suspected that one of them – a Cordite rifleman – was coming for him.
There had been rumours that one of the dead sharpshooters, Penn, had been taken by the Fastest Guns and invited to join their number. His body had gone missing from the charnel house and Travis had a feeling that it was Penn who was stalking him now.
He hoped it was. Travis had respected Penn, had been envious of his talent and the expensive rifle that he carried. He had often wondered if he could beat him in a fight.
He searched the dark rooftops for him, peering watchfully through his rifle’s optical sight. He was crouched far enough back from the window that he felt confident that he could not be seen.
Sniping was a waiting game. Whoever moved first, died; and Travis was confident that Penn – or whoever it was – would have to come out into the open in order to take a shot at him. And when that happened, Travis would get him.
He scanned the line of buildings in front of him, keen eyes dwelling especially on those places where a man would be able to get a good shot at him. He saw nothing but shadows.
And then a figure appeared abruptly, stepping from an open doorway about a hundred yards away.
Calmly but quickly, Travis brought his aim to bear and made a quick adjustment to take the distance, air temperature and wind speed into consideration.
Through his scope, he saw the man bring his rifle smoothly to his shoulder and take aim. He zeroed in precisely on Travis’ position.
‘Shit!’ Travis cursed.
The glass lens of his optical sight shattered into fragments and the back of his head exploded. He fell down with a heavy thump, bleeding through the hole where his right eye had been.

Madison regained consciousness with a groan. She sat up and clutched at the side of her head, which she must have banged on the floor when she fell. Her head ached and she felt nauseous.
She saw Buchanan’s body lying only a short distance away and her breath caught sharply in her throat. For a moment, she had thought that it was Shane. Groaning, she looked around and saw Shane sitting against the wall, holding Chastity in his lap. The girl looked tired. Shane looked exhausted. His face was bruised and bloody and she could tell that he was in pain.
‘What did I miss?’ she asked croakily.
‘Chastity killed him.’ Shane replied, matter-of-factly. ‘And then she tried to kill me.’
‘Oh my god! Are you all right?’
‘I’ve been worse,’ he replied with a groan, and rose awkwardly to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. ‘Can you take her?’ he asked.
Madison nodded and took the girl away from him, leading her gently by the hand. Chastity was half-asleep and she did not try to resist her. Shane retrieved his knife from where he had dropped it and was just about to move towards the door when a figure suddenly appeared within it.
Madison started in alarm and stepped behind Shane for protection. There was no time to run for cover. Shane gripped the handle of his knife and grimly resigned himself to another fight.
The figure moved forward into a dim shaft of moonlight and they saw that it was Whisperer. He was slightly out of breath and walked favouring his right leg. He gestured for Shane to lower his knife.
‘You’ve nothing to fear from me,’ he said. ‘For what it would cost me to have you, you and Chastity are not worth the risk.’ He saw Buchanan lying on the floor. ‘Your doing?’ he asked Shane.
‘The girl’s.’
He accepted Shane’s explanation without question; Whisperer understood Chastity’s nature perfectly. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said.
He moved to Buchanan’s side and knelt down. Shane stepped back and watched while he made a few strange passes in the air above Buchanan’s torso with his hand. The darkness seemed to thicken under his palm. It moved like the tail of a tornado, becoming more and more solid as Whisperer stirred the air.
‘What’s he doing?’ Madison asked, peering over Shane’s shoulder.
Shane said nothing. He thought he knew but wanted to have his suspicions confirmed before he said anything.
Buchanan’s body began to twitch. His arms and legs jerked fitfully and then his whole body began to shake like a fish dragged from the water, his toes kicking at the floor. The spiral of darkness that Whisperer gathered under his hand grew more substantial until Shane thought he could see a face within it. A face that resembled Buchanan’s. His eyes were wide, like a man trapped in a nightmare, and his mouth stretched open in a silent wail.
Abruptly, Whisperer clenched his fist and Buchanan’s body became still. There was a sound, distant and confused, like the howling of a far off wind, and then Whisperer rose. He lowered his fist and turned to leave.
‘Nanache was wrong about you.’ Shane told him.
‘Oh, in what way?’ Whisperer asked innocently.
‘He said you were devil-kind but you’re not, are you? You’re the real deal.’
The tall man smiled knowingly. ‘Now that would be telling,’ he answered. ‘And these walls have ears.’
Shane understood now why Whisperer scared him so badly. A full-blooded demon was bad news, and one who openly crossed the Cordites on their own ground was sure to be powerful. He took hold of Chastity’s hand and steered her and Madison towards the back door. He had not gone far when Whisperer called out to him.
‘This is only the beginning, Mister Ennis. You do know that, don’t you? The Cordites are young. They have not yet learned the extent of what they have become, but that will change. They will grow stronger and they will not forget about you.’
‘They won’t forget you either.’ Shane reminded him.
Whisperer gave a shrug. ‘Maybe not, but by the time they catch up with me they will have had plenty of time to learn my worth. No matter who you are, it always pays to have a good merchant on your side.’
He fell silent, hearing the sound of footsteps on the boardwalk outside. Grabbing Madison by the arm, Shane steered her behind counter and they hurried for the back door. Whisperer did not try to stop him. As Shane glanced back, he saw that the tall man no longer stood alone. He was surrounded by half a dozen shadowy figures, each of whom was tethered to him by chains of ethereal steel. Their bodies looked smoky and insubstantial, naked and painfully thin.
One of them turned to face Shane and opened his mouth in a silent cry of anguish. It was Castor Buchanan.
At that moment, the footsteps outside drew level with the shop doorway and a Cordite strode into the room. Whisperer unleashed his wraiths and the Cordite’s gun blazed. Shane did not wait to see the outcome of the fight. He fled out the back door and hurried away.