Blood Riders (26 page)

Chapter Fifty-eight

T
he opening to main shaft 7 at the Clady mine was crowded with Archaics. Most of them were initiates, although Malachi had sired a few of them when he first landed on American shores. He had kept his band intentionally small then, hiding, feeding either in major cities or remote towns. Places where they could either blend in and find easy food, or out-of-the-way locations where no one would likely notice when they did feed. They moved ever westward until he found what he was looking for. A place much like the Archaic homeland in Europe. Filled with mountains, defensible and secluded, but populated enough so he could begin raising more followers.

The Archaics were waiting for Malachi to ascend from the mine. In three more days he would be fifteen hundred years old and immortal. No human weapon, no elemental, no damnable priest of Saint Ignatius could summon the fires of heaven to consume him. He would live forever. And here he would rule. He would sire more and more humans until his army was too large, too vast to defeat. The centuries of humiliation, the years of living high in the mountains, feeding on vermin and cowering, hiding from the humans like frightened dogs would be over. Archaics would rule. As it had been intended since the dawn of time.

Only one thing could stop him now.

Shaniah. She was nearly an Eternal herself. She
could
have the power, although he doubted it. Since he’d left the Archaics in Europe, he had broken the covenant and fed on humans again. What strength flowed from the
Huma Sangra
, human blood. He was the most powerful Archaic alive. He knew this. He also knew Shaniah was a puppet of the Old Ones. There was little chance she had fed on human blood while she pursued him, and she would be too weak to stop him. He smiled at the thought.

But she was coming. He could sense her now. Close by and not without considerable power. Just not enough. Malachi thought she might have been killed in Absolution, but instead she and a handful of puny humans had escaped, and what’s more, had killed more than one hundred of his people. Those who survived the encounter told him of a great weapon used by one of the humans. It had destroyed many of them. He had killed the survivors as a lesson to the others.

Interesting. But he was not afraid. Humans were clever, he would give them that. Weapons and spells and magics and elementals they had discovered through the ages had killed many Archaics. But Malachi knew in his heart they were not strong enough. If the Old Ones had not given up, if they had not been cowards and retreated, the Archaics would rule the planet already.

Now he would make it so.

His army was more than five hundred strong. They had hidden themselves well here in the Clady mine. The humans did not know where they were or even for certain what they were. And they wouldn’t realize what hell had descended on them until it was too late.

But Shaniah was coming and that was . . . interesting. Was she coming alone, or was she bringing help? Had she found some humans who thought their clever weapons could destroy him? Perhaps.

Malachi walked through the crowd, and his followers reached out to touch him, his arms, his hair—stroked his shoulders as he passed by. He stepped up on a cluster of crates that had been pushed together to create a small stage from which to address his people.

“My children,” he said. “The time is near.” Cheers erupted and he waited for them to subside. He felt invincible. He stood over seven feet tall. His nearly pure white hair now hung to the center of his back. He looked like some ancient warrior, a Viking king, or a knight from the middle ages.

“Our time is nearly here,” he said. More cheers.

“But first I must ask from some of you a grave sacrifice,” he said. The crowd quieted instantly.

“I’ve told you of Shaniah, the queen of those left behind. How she has followed me from our homeland. It was she who led the humans at Absolution who killed our brothers and sisters.” At this, yells and jeers and yowls erupted and Malachi held out his hands.

“She is coming,” he said. “I can sense her, she is close and will try to stop us.” There were more shouts and cries of anger and vengeance.

“Do not underestimate her,” he said. “She cannot defeat me, I have grown far too powerful, but she is strong and we must not let her delay our plans.”

“Shaniah is coming from the south, I would surmise she rides by train to the end of the line near Clawson’s Gap. That is where we must meet and defeat her. I ask who among you will meet her challenge?” The shouts were nearly deafening and every one of the assembled Archaics raised their hand.

“I do not ask lightly. Shaniah is cunning. She is brave and strong and fierce—a brilliant warrior. The humans who killed our brethren at Absolution may be with her, and may bring more weapons. Some of you who confront her now will die. But Shaniah must be stopped, or all of us may perish.”

He looked to two of his men, Lucas and Jonathan, followers who had been with him since he arrived in America.

“Take one hundred fifty . . . no . . . take two hundred and meet the train at Clawson’s Gap. Destroy her,” he said quietly.

It took a matter of minutes for his men to gather two hundred angry, vicious Archaics. With howls of rage and anger they ran out of the camp, disappearing into the trees.

On the way to kill Shaniah.

Chapter Fifty-nine

M
onkey Pete stuck his head into the armory. The train was starting to slow and the brakes sounded.

“About two miles to the end of the line, Major,” he said. A few minutes later the train finally stopped. It still made Hollister nervous, the idea the train was driving itself with no one in the engine room. Pete had tried explaining it to Hollister, but the major had had no idea what the engineer was talking about.

Pete pinned a map up on an open space on the wall. “We’re here. The grade was too steep for a rail line to the mine, so they used wagons to haul the ore back and forth from here to the mining camp. There’s a road, so it makes for an easy ride on horseback.”

Hollister studied the map. “Makes for a good spot for an ambush also.”

“Well, there is that,” Monkey Pete said.

“We don’t have much choice,” Hollister said. “Let’s do a final weapons check and then we’ll ride out at first light . . .”

He was interrupted by Dog, who rose instantly, the hair on the back of his neck standing up and a growl sounding low in his throat.

“Something’s wrong,” Chee said.

“He smells them,” Shaniah said.

“Smells what?” Hollister asked.

“The Archaics. They’re here,” she said.

“How do you know?” Hollister asked, looking out the window but seeing nothing in the darkness.

“Because I can smell them too,” Shaniah said.

“Well, that changes things,” Hollister said.

“How?” Shaniah asked.

“Wasn’t planning on a night assault. I figured you could wear your fancy cloak and we would attack them in the daylight, since they don’t like the sunlight,” he said.

A howl went up from outside the train, and Dog answered with a bark. He clawed at the door, anxious to be outside, ready to attack.

“We’ll back up, then return tomorrow in the daylight. Monkey Pete . . .” Hollister turned around looking for the engineer, who had disappeared. Suddenly the outside of the train lit up, the exterior lamps and spotlights coming alive, and through the shooting slots in the armory car, they could see hundreds of Archaics standing in the woods, watching the train.

“Where’d he go?” Hollister asked.

Just then Monkey Pete hustled back into the armory car. “No backing up tonight I’m afraid, Major,” Monkey Pete said.

“Why not?”

“Well, Major, them critters”—he looked at Shaniah and tipped his cap—“no offense, ma’am, didn’t mean to say
critter
. Those . . . our enemies have pushed about a dozen trees onto the tracks thirty or forty yards behind us. Big trees.”

“Pete, this train can practically fly,” Hollister said. “Can’t you jump over them or push them off the tracks or burn them or something?”

Pete looked crestfallen, as if Hollister had insulted his train somehow.

“No, sir,” he said. “Like I said, they’re too big to burn and we ain’t gonna move ’em, because I’m pretty sure them Archaics outside got other ideas for us. So you better come up with a plan.”

Hollister paced back and forth, his hand on his chin, thinking.

“You do have a plan, right, sir?” Chee asked.

Hollister looked up, smiling. “Yes I do. Pete, let’s get your fire-shooting contraptions ready to go.”

“But, Major, I done told you, we can’t burn these trees. They’re too big and if—”

“Don’t worry, Pete, I got it all figured out. We aren’t going to be burning the trees.”

“All right,” Shaniah said. “The Fire Shooters, then what?”

Hollister grinned.

“Then we open the doors,” he said.

Chapter Sixty

“O
pen the doors—are you insane?” Shaniah said.

Chee said nothing, looking away but actually thinking the same thing.

“Why would we want to do that, Major?” Monkey Pete said. “Sounds crazy to me. Like you’re letting them right in.”

Hollister smiled. Outside, the Archaics began to howl and scream, and rocks and sticks started thumping against the side of the train.

“Don’t forget, we’ve got the devil’s traps and we’ve got a little surprise for them,” he said as he shrugged into one of Pete’s Fire Shooters.

Chee picked up his Henry; he was already wearing his double-rig Colts.

“Pete, what about the horses . . . we can’t lose them,” Hollister said.

“No worries, Major. Them stock doors close up with solid steel, they ventilate out the top and sides. Ain’t nothing can get in there except noise. Might spook ’em a little is all.”

Hollister nodded. “Pete, you get up on the Gatling and start letting ’em have it. Shaniah, Chee, you come with me.”

They left the armory. The sounds of Archaics clamoring over the roof of the train were getting louder. Inside the main cabin, Hollister and Chee each took a door on opposite sides of the car.

Hollister glanced at the paintings and bunches of garlic around the doors and windows. “I hope those work,” he said. He worked the gauge on the Fire Shooter.

“Ready, Chee?” he shouted. The howls and squeals of the Archaics were getting louder and louder.

“Ready,” Chee shouted. “Dog! Stay!” he commanded. Dog whined and sat on his haunches as if Chee had just asked him to choose a head of lettuce over a side of bacon.

Shaniah, standing at the side of the door nearest Hollister with her blade in hand, threw it open.

Outside, a group of fifteen or twenty Archaics clustered near the train. The open door caught them completely by surprise. But they recovered quickly and launched themselves toward the train. The first one hit the threshold and bounced away, Van Helsing’s traps working, at least for now.

Hollister turned the knob on the Fire Shooter and pulled the trigger. Flames shot out through the door and Archaic after Archaic caught fire. Hollister swept the nozzle back and forth like he was watering a garden and the flames erupted, filling up the surrounding woods with light.

The noise surrounding him was nearly indescribable. Dog howled, Chee shouted for the animal to stay. Above him, he heard the sound of the Gatling as Monkey Pete opened fire and cleared the creatures off the roof of the train. Unable to use her blade, Shaniah took up a Henry and fired through the port. Outside, the screams of the Archaics became nearly unbearable; the stink of burning flesh reached Jonas’s nostrils and he thought he might retch, but he held on.

Despite the flames, the Archaics kept coming, hurling themselves at the train. Hollister looked at the gauge on his Fire Shooter. It was more than half empty. Since his field of vision was narrowed to what he could see through his door, he had no idea how many he had killed.

“Chee! How much juice you got left?” he hollered.

“Maybe a quarter tank, Major. There’s a lot of them. They keep coming,” he shouted over the din.

“When you run out of mixture, you close that door. Van Helsing’s charms seem to be working, but let’s not take any chances.”

“Yes, sir,” he shouted, triggering the Fire Shooter again. A new wave of Archaics came through the trees and Hollister bathed them in flames. Some of them began to run away, but he kept the pressure on the trigger.

“They are new! Initiates!” Shaniah shouted over the noise. “Mature Archaics would never stop. They would keep coming until they killed us or we killed them.”

Hollister filed this away. It was chaos now, but somehow this was important information. It would come in handy at some point, he was sure. For the time being, he kept pulling the trigger on Pete’s Fire Shooter.

A few minutes later, the device sputtered and the flame died. He checked the gauge. Empty. He slammed the door shut and a few seconds later Chee did the same at his end of the car. Monkey Pete was still firing the Gatling from the roof of the armory car.

“Pete! What’s going on out there?” Hollister shouted up to the engineer.

“We killed a lot of them, Major. Some of ’em took off and there’s maybe fifty of ’em left that I can see . . .” the Gatling fired again. “About forty left now.”

“Chee, load up and get Dog ready,” Hollister said. “Shaniah, you reload too. We’re going out there and kill the rest of them. Before they decide to retreat back to the mine.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Shaniah said. “Even forty Archaics, initiates or not, can be formidable. You do remember Absolution, don’t you?”

“I do,” Jonas said. “We just killed over a hundred of those things. Maybe more. With what we killed in Absolution we’ve taken Malachi’s numbers down a fair bit. He can’t have turned that many. We kill those left out there right now, we weaken him even further. He made a mistake. He didn’t know what our tactical capabilities are and he sent too many of his men. Just like Lee at Petersburg. We’ve got to get them now!”

Monkey Pete’s third Fire Shooter was empty, but Hollister grabbed the Ass-Kicker, and Chee and Shaniah picked up their Henrys.

“Pete! We’re going out, on the count of three you start singing with that Gatling!”

“YOU’RE WHAT?” Pete hollered back.

“One . . . two . . . three.” Hollister threw open the door.

“Dog! Hunt!” Chee shouted. Dog lunged through the door like he’d been shot out of a cannon. He leapt at the first Archaic he met, about ten yards from the train and took it by the throat. It had been a human woman and it was small but Archaic strong, and it tried to push Dog off, but the animal was too enraged. He tore the throat from the Archaic with a howl.

Hollister went out the door firing a Henry. The Archaics regrouped and charged. Chee came next, then Shaniah. The creatures lunged toward the train and Pete’s Gatling cut down the first row of them, the wooden bullets stitching them like quilts. A handful of them exploded into dust.

The trio stood with their backs to the train, firing away. When his Henry emptied, Jonas tossed it to the ground, took the Ass-Kicker by the stock, and pulled it to his hip, ready to shoot. He worked the action, the gear clicked into place, he leveled it at the Archaics, and fired.

The percussion wave blasted out of the barrel of the gun and six of the Archaics exploded in a wave of body parts. Three shots left. Maybe twenty creatures to go. He worked the action again, fired, again and again. The final shot took down the last four. It was over. They were all dead. Dog returned from somewhere, and for a moment, Hollister’s heart jumped because he had forgotten about the animal and was happy he hadn’t accidentally shot it. It loped over to Chee and dropped something at his feet. Hollister thought it might be an Archaic hand but wasn’t sure.

The area surrounding the train was a morass of body parts, burned skeletons, and piles of ash. Hollister couldn’t believe it. The four of them had beaten off a massive attack.

For the first time since Pinkerton had shown up and gotten him out of prison, he started thinking that maybe, just maybe, this Malachi could be beaten.

One way or the other, they were going to find out.