Authors: Theresa Meyers

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Fantasy, #Romance, #Paranormal

The Slayer (6 page)

BOOK: The Slayer

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Winn tugged at the brim of his Stetson. “Yes, ma'am.” He caught himself and bristled. His pa might have imbued him with hunting, but his ma had driven manners deeper still.

He muttered to himself while he swung down the ladder, rung after rung. He jumped the last few feet, his boots kicking up a small cloud of pale dust. The sun was fully risen now, a brilliant ball of white light in a blue sky, but the air wasn't hot. Not yet.

Just in front of Marley's place sat Tempus, his brother Colt's mechanical horse. It looked like some bizarre frozen beast, the black-and-white cowhide covering over its copper body both protecting it from the elements and making it eerily realistic. Only the solid silver eyes and brass hooves completely gave it away. Why had Colt left it here? He never went anywhere without Tempus, unless something drastic had happened.

The door of Marley's home swung open and out came a man a full foot shorter than Winn, his brown eyes magnified into outlandish proportions by the elaborate brass goggles on his face. No one knew for sure exactly how old Marley was, but his hair was tufts of white cotton surrounding his head. Yet, his brows were still as dark as his eyes, and his face didn't have a wrinkle on it.

There were rumors among the Hunters in the Western territories that things had gone bad during one of Marley's experiments, and that had brought on the change in his hair color. But Marley's past didn't matter much to Winn. Hands down, nobody, but nobody could outmatch Marley for a mind and sheer ingenuity.

“Winchester!” He wiped his hands on his stained leather apron and approached Winn hand outstretched, a large smile on his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing two of you Jacksons in one week?”

“Family business.” Winn took Marley's hand and gave it a proper shake.

Marley's dark brows rose above the level of his goggles. “My word, does that mean you've begun hunting again?”

“Not exactly. I'm trying to help out Colt.”

Marley lifted the goggles away from his eyes, perching them on his forehead so that he looked like a demented double-horned unicorn. “So, you two have patched things up, as they say?”

“Close enough.” Winn glanced at the dirigible hanging overhead. “I've got a job to do. Was Balmora able to help Colt decode that slip of paper he found in Pa's box?”

Marley nodded, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “She did an exemplary job unraveling that code.”

“Well, what did it say?”

“The inscription said something regarding needing the entire Book to seal the Gates, and then there was a riddle: At the height of the mountains, where legends are reborn from the ashes, is the eye through which we must pass to sew the tapestry of our Chosen destiny.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I really don't know. Colt couldn't make sense of it either. He's taken it to Remington in Tombstone to see if perhaps your brother can understand the instructions your father left.”

Winn hitched his thumb at Tempus. “So why'd he leave his horse? He don't go anywhere without that thing.”

“He left Tempus at the train station with the request that I ship it back to you in Bodie for safekeeping until he returned. He thought the train would be a faster means to reach Remington.”

“So now it's a race?”

Marley's face turned deadly serious. “A race of great significance. If my calculations are correct, we have only until the next new moon before there will be an attempt made to open the Gates of Nyx permanently, and Colt agrees, which makes time of the essence.”

“Damn,” Winn growled, swiping his Stetson off his head and plowing his fingers through his hair. His gut twisted into a Gordian knot just thinking of the odds stacked against them. “Three weeks?”

Marley nodded. “You might want to stop there if you can and find out what they've discovered. Your brothers may need your assistance. And you could deliver Tempus back to Colt.”

Winn swore under his breath. “You think whatever they've decoded might make a difference?”

Marley picked one of the tools out of his heavy belt and twisted the top of it absently. “Considering how well-guarded it was, it certainly has potential.”

Winn glanced back over his shoulder in the direction of the airship that loomed like a large balloon over Marley's home, casting the yard in an enormous shadow. “I only stopped by because I'm leaving on a trip. I suppose I could go to Tombstone, find out what Pa meant, and deliver Tempus, then leave.”

“By airship you could be there in a trice.” Marley's eyes lit up with a curious gleam. He tucked his tool back in his belt and clasped his hands together. “A trip? Where are you going, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”

“Europe.”

Winn was surprised Marley didn't even flinch at the surprising news. “Any chance you might be passing by London?” he asked simply.

Winn quirked a brow. “Why?”

“I have some rather special plans I'd like hand-delivered to Her Majesty, without interference. If you ascertain my meaning.”

Winn shrugged. “I could try.”

“Lovely, lovely,” Marley said as he waved him toward the building. Winn followed him into the dark recesses of the house, if it could really be called a house. It was more like a laboratory gone berserk.

Piles of papers and books teetered in stacks. Glassware, wire, and bits of metal were heaped upon nearly every available surface. An entire wall housed nothing but different clocks of all sorts. In short, it was a pack rat's paradise. And the faint odor of ammonia and dust permeated the air.

“This job wouldn't possibly have anything to do with the Drossenburg vampire court, would it?” Marley asked. He shut the door behind them, causing dust motes to swirl in the shafts of sunlight that leaked in past the heavy velvet draperies.

“Told them that emblem on their dirigible was a dead giveaway.”

Marley shook his head as he pushed through a pile of old papers. “What is the world coming to? How is it that you come to be working with vampires, and your brother has partnered up with a succubus?”

Winn shook his head and pulled on the waxed end of his mustache. “Beats me, Marley. That's a mystery as much to me as anybody. All I know is they want my help in recovering the second part of the Book. They say it's been stolen.”

Marley's eyes narrowed. He folded his arms over his chest, the corners of his mouth hardening in disapproval. “You'd better be careful, Winchester. Vampires always have their own agenda. You know what they sayâ”

“Yeah. Never trust a Darkin.”

“Precisely.”

“Say, you know something about the Darkin they've got over in Europe. You got anything that I might find useful?”

Marley's eyes sparked with manic delight as he grabbed hold of Winn's arm and pulled him down the hallway. “Of course, old chap. Right this way.”

They approached a door Winn was certain led to just another bedroom, but when Marley opened it the smells of dank earth and mustiness eddied out. Marley grabbed an oil lamp from a nail on the wall and lit it, leading Winn down a rough wooden staircase. In any normal house this would have been the basement or root cellar, but in Marley's place it was an armory.

Winn tried to take it all in. The swords and pikes, shields and steel traps, an entire wall of different guns and gizmos. “Jumpin' Jehoshaphat, Marley, what the hell are you doing with all this stuff? Starting your own war?”

The clatter of gears and wheels turning preceded the crackle and bluish light of an arc lamp that brilliantly lit up the room as bright as the broad daylight outside. “Oh, these are remnants, mostly,” Marley murmured, surveying the stacks of spikes, guns, and other dangerous-looking implements that Winn had never even seen before. “Now where did I put it?”

Marley dug through a stack of what looked like crazy bows and arrows to Winn. “Ah, here it is!” Marley pulled out a heavy crossbow with a circular bolt holder on top that looked an awful lot like the bullet chamber of a revolver to Winn. It had a crank where the handle joined the top of the bow and a series of intricate pulleys and wheels.

Winn whistled long and low. “That's some crossbow, Marley.”

“It's an Amanarath. Should slay anything Darkin when the proper silver or jade-tipped bolts are used. The windlasses and special clockworks allow it to re-tension the bow quickly. And
this
little bit,” he said as he tapped the crank, “is my personal favorite.”

Winn took the crossbow from his friend, holding it up and sighting down the shaft. It had heft and was exquisitely balanced for a bow. “What's it do?”

“It automatically reloads the bolts, allowing you to shoot multiple bolts very quickly.”

“You mean like a Gatling gun?”

Marley's mouth widened into a pleased smile. “Precisely.”

“Damn.” Winn hefted the solid weight of the weapon in his hand. “That's brilliant.”

Marley's smile widened even further. “Why thank you. It's a bit of my own vision on the bow originally used by the Van Helsings.”

“The Van who's?”

The brilliance of his eyes faded slightly, and Marley shook his head. “Famous Hunters from the European branch of the Legion. It's a very different world over there.”

“As good as this is, one weapon ain't going to do the job. Got anything else?”

Marley tapped his finger to his lips. “Where are you going, precisely?”

“Transylvania. Going to meet His Vampiric Imperial Majesty, Vladimir the Fifth.”

Marley's brown eyes widened, and his face turned a bit ashen. “Oh! Well, in that case, you'll also want this.”

Winn slung the crossbow over his back, adjusting the strap around his chest while Marley dug through another stack of weapons comprised of various shapes and sizes of glass bulbs, tubes, and wires. He pulled out a small brass gun outfitted with a large glass jar in the base.

He handed it to Winn, and it felt so insubstantial that Winn wasn't certain it would make it through a single use. “What the hell is this?”

“Repeating water gun.”

Win bit back a laugh. He was going to fight the Darkin with a liquid-shooting pistol? “Water?”

Marley lifted up on his toes, pulling a brown bottle off the shelf that seemed to hold all manner of ammunition. “Holy water.”

Almost as useless. “That stuff don't kill vampires, Marley.”

“I know, but it's hell on werewolves and useful against demons. It'll scald them like acid.”

Winn wasn't planning on interacting with werewolves, but he shrugged and took the proffered bottle. Overhead the boards creaked. Both of them looked up as a bit of dirt filtered down through the cracks in the floorboards. A red light on Marley's belt began to flash. “Darkin!” His whisper was harsh. He grabbed a silver-tipped pike pole and started for the stairs.

“Now hold up a minute, Marley.” Winn grabbed him by the shirt. “It might be those vampires I'm working with. Let's not be too hasty. In fact, the Contessa Drossenburg is a big admirer of your work. Even called you
Sir
Turlock.”

Marley turned, the tip of the pike dropping to the floor, and stared at Winn, a perplexed look on his face. “She knew me?”

Winn shrugged. “She knew about you, at least. Was all hot 'n' bothered to meet you in person.”

Marley swallowed hard. “Really? How do you know it's not a Darkin ploy to murder me?”

Winn frowned. He didn't. The contessa had certainly seemed genuine enough in her interest. “Well, they ain't tried to kill me yet, so that's some indication they've got other purposes in mind. Why don't you let me go up the stairs first.”

Marley nodded. “I think that would be for the best. You're the Hunter, after all.”

Winn winced. This was all temporary. Once he'd gotten the second part of the Book, he had no intention of staying in the life. He'd go back to being sheriff of Bodie.

He pulled the crossbow off his back, preparing it to fire, and eased past Marley. With swift silent steps he took the stairs two at a time and approached the front room of Marley's house with caution. There, standing among the flotsam and jetsam of Marley's quarters, was the contessa, looking like an exquisite marble statue in the midst of a catastrophic mess. Her eyes glowed with pleasure as her fingers traced with obvious admiration over the glass apparatus Marley had set up on a table.

Winn pulled down the bow, slipped the strap back over his shoulder, and slung it onto his back. “Thought you were going to wait for my signal.”

Her gaze connected with his, and she lifted her chin a slight bit. “You were taking too long.”

BOOK: The Slayer

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