Peacemaker (9780698140820) (20 page)

Another sizzling bolt speared the ground near his right hand, forcing him to snatch it back without the revolver.

Ernst closed in on the rancher from behind, but not fast enough, and the shield slammed back into place, searing the wolf's tender nose. The familiar whined and rolled in the dirt, trying to ease the burning.

Caleb felt the fragile vials in his coat pressed between his chest and the hard ground, and a cold chill went down his spine. If those had shattered, all his worries would have been ended in one spectacular moment.

“Oh, do get up, Agent Marcus. I will not lower myself to killing a man who is groveling in the dust. Leave the gun where it is.”

Something else pressed against Caleb's thigh, and he remembered the nullstone amulet in his coat pocket. Reluctantly, he left the revolver where it lay, but and as he clambered to his feet, he subtly fished the medallion from his pocket. His fingers went numb where they brushed against the chalky stone, and he let it dangle by the chain, hidden from Warner in the folds of his heavy coat. If he could break Warner's concentration for just a moment, he could hit him with the medallion, he was certain.

“Schmidt's not coming to protect you, you know.”

Warner smirked. “Oh, I know. I saw. Rather impressive, that. A shame to lose such a talented hand, though. I'd ask if you'd want to take his place, but . . . well, we both know you won't.”

In the other pocket of his coat, the one that hadn't held the nullstone amulet, Caleb's fingers found the tiny metal forms of many bullets, the spare ammunition he would never get to use now. And among those innocuous lead lumps, there was one that made his senses tingle. Schmidt's last round, caught and held. Caleb palmed it quickly.

“I ask you one more time, Mr. Warner. Drop your weapon and surrender to federal authority.”

“What authority? These are the borderlands, Agent Marcus. There's no authority out here but bolts and bullets.”

“Caleb! The house is on fire!”

At Ernst's bark, Caleb spared a glance for the ranch house, seeing that flames were indeed licking along the rooftop, seeking a way down.

“There are men in there, Ernst. Get them out!”

The antlered wolf hesitated for a brief moment, obviously reluctant to leave his partner, then bolted off toward the burning building. Part of Caleb relaxed. Ernst was out of the line of fire now, so to speak, no matter what was about to happen.

Warner raised one dark brow at the Peacemaker. “You know, I'd rather hoped to get a better fight out of you, Agent. I did see you catch a bullet, after all.”

“No. You saw me catch two.” Ignoring the screaming pain in his left shoulder, Caleb threw the augmented bullet as hard as he could.

There was no force behind the throw, nothing to power the projectile other than the last vestige of a dead sniper's will, but when the tiny missile hit the shield of pure power, it exploded like a Chinese rocket.

The rancher cried out in pain as pure arcane energy blasted through his defenses with a blinding flash and a deafening boom. He dropped the ironwood staff, the runes going dark as soon as his hand left it.

Caleb whipped the medallion in a quick circle, and it spun through the air to wrap around Warner's outstretched arm, the delicate chain twining around his wrist several times.

“No!” The rancher's polite demeanor faded into a snarl, and he scrabbled at the chain, trying frantically to tear it away from his skin. The tiny metal links parted finally, the medallion dropping to the dirt at the rancher's feet, but it had distracted him long enough.

Caleb took the opening.
“Kracht!”
He dipped to slam his fist into the hard-packed dirt, sending his power ripping through the soil to explode beneath Warner's boots.

The rancher leapt back, further separated from the staff, and summoned a glowing ball of power into his hands. “Damn you!” With a yell, he thrust it at the Peacemaker, lighting the night bright as day for a heartbeat.

“Muur!”
shouted Caleb. A thick wall of soil erupted, pulverized to a cloud of dust by Warner's blast, but sparing Caleb the injury.

The next bolt blasted through the haze of dust, igniting the tiny particles on the way, and Caleb grabbed for the power in the sudden wall of fire, sending it back at Warner with a snarled
“Brand!”

The wave of heat drove Warner back from the staff again, and he countered by sending another narrow shaft of energy lancing through the darkness at Caleb. His next gesture sent the staff itself spinning off into the darkness, out of reach of either of them. Lightning ignited the top of the schoolhouse on the other side of the compound, and the thunder nearly drowned out the sound of the blast. Smoke drifted from the engulfed house, lying low and heavy in the oppressive air under the storm clouds.

Twice more, Warner took shots at the Peacemaker, and both times Caleb managed to disperse the blasts. The air was already charged with energy from the storm overhead, and every bit that Caleb scattered only added to it. The smell of ozone warred with the smell of burning wood. Something was brewing, swirling in the dark sky above them.

Caleb knew he had to end the battle before they tipped the building energy over the edge. Against his better judgment, he opened himself, reaching out to rip Warner's power away from him, hoping against hope that he could hold it all without his staff to focus it.

In his haste, he'd forgotten that Warner was not the strongest source of power. The great gaping hole went searching elsewhere, tapping Caleb into the storm. He gasped as he felt the power rush into him, lightning and fire and gale-force winds suddenly warring within his mind.

His vision shifted to see the broad spectrum of energy flowing all around and through him. His hands were painfully bright, nearly blinding him to all else. Warner seemed dim by comparison. Entranced, Caleb watched as the rancher gathered more energy to attack again, each movement taking a split second that lasted an eternity. He could see the power flowing through the other man's veins, pulsing with every rapid heartbeat. It pooled in Warner's hands, merged as he brought them together, and trickled out into the air toward Caleb.

The damaged part of him, the part that longed for what had been lost, saw that bolt only as more power to absorb, and when it hit Caleb square in the chest, it spread through his body with an almost pleasant tingle.

Warner swallowed hard, and Caleb could hear it, even through the roaring in his ears. Despite the darkness, he watched the blood drain from the rancher's face, saw the moment his heart doubled its pace. He could smell Warner's fear, rank on the storm's wind. He felt a dark smile stretch his face, and knew it was the storm's, not his own.

Warner was gathering himself for another try, and that could not be allowed. Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Caleb brought his hands together in a clap that echoed like thunder. It crashed through his body, down his arms, the wave of sound as solid as steel.

The dark-haired rancher was knocked off his feet and blown back a good twenty paces, tumbling head over heels beneath the wave of sheer force. The second blow pinned him against the wall of the livery, and the entire building groaned under the assault. Blood trickled from his nose and ears.

When he looked up, Caleb was advancing on him, and he made a weak attempt to scramble backward. “No! No, you can't! You're a lawman!”

“You tried to kill me.” Dimly, Caleb knew his voice sounded wrong. It hurt his ears, stung his mouth. He tasted copper on his tongue and wondered what was bleeding.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Pleasepleaseplease . . .” Warner's pleading devolved into incoherent babbling, and the smell of urine tainted the air. He fell to his knees, weeping at Caleb's feet.

It would be so easy to crush the life from his body, to rip him apart through sheer will. For a long moment, Caleb pondered it, even knowing that it was not his own thought. The storm inside him snarled at his reluctance, battering at his self-control.

“Agent Marcus!” In the chaos, he'd forgotten about Ellen Sinclair. She plucked at his sleeve. “Agent Marcus, don't do this!”

The storm focused on her for a moment, and that more than anything made Caleb clamp down on it, wrestle it into a modicum of submission. “I have nullcuffs in my right coat pocket, Miss Sinclair. If you would please put them on Mr. Warner.”

She did so, wincing as the power he held licked over her skin even through the fabric. “The fire is spreading, we have to go!”

Feeling only a mild sense of curiosity, Caleb turned to look at the buildings. The house was fully engulfed, the charred skeleton showing through the glowing walls. The kennel roof was already smoldering where embers had made the leap, and the smithy's north wall was crawling with tendrils of flame.

Caleb paused, frowning. The smithy was important, but he could not remember why.

Ellen dragged Warner almost bodily to his feet and gave him a shove. “Move, or you'll burn, too!” Her words were nearly lost in a fit of coughing as the smoke grew heavier.

The smithy . . .
The storm inside him saw it only as a structure to be destroyed, a creation of straight lines and right angles that must succumb to nature's fury. He had to let it go, so he could think, but to release it, he would need the staff.
Ernst.
Where had Ernst gone? He lost long, precious moments, trying to wrap his mind around that simple question while the storm thrashed inside his mind.

“Agent Marcus!”

What was it about the smithy that plagued him so?

“Caleb!” Ellen screamed in his face. “Where are the children??”

He knew this answer. “They're with Mary Catherine. . . .” The Indian woman's face flashed in his memory, her dark eyes imploring. She'd asked him . . . oh, Lord. “Her son is in the smithy!”

“Dear God . . .” Horrified, they watched the flames clamber up the wall and spread across the roof of the structure. The smoldering kennel gave a pop, and a long-dried knot of sap exploded in fiery stars, the sparks landing in the dried grass on the other side of the fence. Immediately, the infant flames devoured their newfound meal, the grasses caught, and fire ran the fence line in both directions.

Caleb saw it all in rainbow shades, blues and reds warring for control of his vision. Ellen shimmered, her small glow of power muted by her earlier exposure to the nullstone but spiky and erratic with fear. He gripped her arm, and the storm licked over her, testing to see whether she was a threat or food. “Get the children; get to the lake. The whole prairie is going up!”

“What about the boy?” She was shouting, he realized, because the fire was bellowing all around them. It seemed soft in comparison to the thunder inside his skull.

“I'll get him. Go!” He didn't wait to see if she obeyed.

The smithy was only across the clearing, but it seemed to take him a lifetime to cross the distance. It was nearly impossible to remember just how to put one foot in front of the other and still control the raging tempest he'd taken inside him. And still he could feel the hungry place inside him wanting more. It would destroy him in its greed, he knew.

Three walls of the smithy had already succumbed to flame, including the door. With seemingly no effort at all, he stretched out one hand and blew it off the hinges. The storm crackled within him, gleeful at the destruction. The fire, on the other hand, roared to life in the open space, resentful of the intrusion.

Someone inside the smithy was coughing. Caleb could hear it somehow, the predatory storm homing in on the sound of weakness. The power surged, and he barely managed to stop it from ripping the building to kindling. The fire roared back in response, filling the doorway with a column of flame as the two volatile powers challenged each other.

The flame weaved and danced, mesmerizing him. The roof of the building groaned, threatening to give way. Caleb knew there was only one way in.

The storm threw itself about within him as it grasped his intent, but he reached for the fire anyway, grappling with that power, too, dragging it into the hungry part of himself, the part that would never be sated.

The smoke thickened as the raging fire was reduced to smoldering embers, its energy captured within one man's very mortal body.

Oh, God, it hurt. The fire and heat of the burning structures, coupled with the turbulent electricity of the captive storm, were enough to scorch his skin from the inside out, and his clothing smoked in response. Dimly, he remembered to shrug out of his heavy coat, lest the heat ignite the dangerous vials still hanging from the loops inside.

And he realized, belatedly, that he could either control both warring powers or he could move. He could not do both. Inside the building, a child was coughing, choking on the smoke, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly, knowing if he took even one step, something was going to break free and destroy everything within reach.

“I'll get him!” Ellen darted past Caleb into the smoking building before he even realized she had followed him. Part of him could have sobbed with relief, but both fire and storm howled inside him, wanting to destroy her and everything else they could reach. A long moment passed as the silent war raged, but finally she reappeared, half carrying an adolescent Indian boy.

They both staggered and fell at Caleb's feet, and he could do nothing more than look at them, his fists clenched with the effort of controlling all the power inside him.

Ellen looked up, her eyes huge in a face marred with soot and dirt. “Agent Marcus . . .”

“Run.” His own breath burned his tongue. “Run for your lives!” Because he knew the power had to come out. It was killing him, and it had to escape. Soon.

The schoolteacher grabbed the boy's hand, dragging him until he found his feet, and the pair of them stumbled off through the smoke and the haze. But there were others, men he'd knocked unconscious himself, not innocents perhaps, but no one that deserved to die in the cataclysm that was coming.